Weddingbee Blog

I don’t frequently tell people the reasons why I love Mr Pretzel, I just file these reasons away. I’ve got quite the catalog; little snippets of memories and small gestures, words, and looks. From time to time something happens that makes me recall one of these reasons. Mr Pretzel reminded me of reason 815 this weekend.

Let me take you back to fall 2008. We had been dating a mere 9 months and were both sent on business trips the same week, to different locations. Mr Pretzel was living it up in the Motor City and I was surrounded by corn in tornado country. Neither local is glamorous, per se, but my trip was about get a little more exciting. Up to this point, it had been pretty uneventful and a little frustrating, my male colleagues caught a BB King show one night while I worked on a presentation. Was I jealous? That is an understatement. Mr Pretzel told me I should wing the presentation and catch the show. I should have listened to him. I also learned that Michael Buble was performing a show the night after my flight home. *sigh* Such is my luck. I have been a Buble fan since before he was on Oprah. I have seen him a couple times in concert and would have loved to see him again.

Source

On the final night of my trip, I shared a hotel shuttle ride with four young men. They were a social bunch and I asked if they were in on business or pleasure. They said business and that they were musicians. Ding ding ding! Bells went off in my head and I connected the dots. When we pulled up to the hotel Michael Buble’s tour bus was parked in front. I lingered in the lobby for a couple of minutes, hoping for a peek of Mr Buble. When I got up in my room I excitedly called Mr Pretzel. I was bouncing about, excited to be staying in the same hotel as my favorite singer. It was silly, but I was giddy as hell at the prospect of bumping into Michael in the hotel hallway. Unable to sleep I grabbed my purse and went to the hotel bar.

Mr Pretzel texted me: “If you meet him does that mean we are over?” I smiled and texted back. ” You betcha!”

No… I didn’t meet Michael Buble in the bar. I sipped on some bourbon and watched hockey on the TV. There was only one other person there, a middle aged man also sipping bourbon. Being the social Pretzel that I am I brought my drink over and introduced myself. Together we drank the last of the bar’s Makers Mark and chit-chatted. He was very easy to talk with- I looked past the fact that he was a Hoosier alumni, a Boilermaker’s hated in-state rival. He listened with interest while I told him about my wonderful boyfriend, and how I missed him. I told him about Mr Pretzel and his most recent text and we laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

Low and behold, my drinking buddy ended up being the Chief Sound Engineer for Michael Buble. I told him how bummed I was that my flight left in the morning and that I wouldn’t be catching Michael’s show. As I was getting ready to leave he said to me, “You should stay for the show.” Ohhh that was tempting! I looked at him and shook my head. “I already checked, the show is sold out.” Then he floated an offer that kept me up all night. “If you decided to change your flight and stay, I will personally make sure that you get into the show.” Wow… that’s something to think about.

I retreated back to my room where I couldn’t sleep. I called Mr Pretzel, who by this time was tucked in, snug as a bug in his bed. When I told him the offer that I had, he simply said, “Do it.”

However, I wasn’t convinced. I couldn’t look past the logistical hassle of staying an additional night and keeping the charges and change fees separate from my business expenses. As I hung up the phone I told Mr Pretzel I wasn’t sure, but I was leaning towards not going. He said to me, “I’ll be pissed at you if you come home. You should go.”

I was ready to give up because it would be a paperwork nightmare, but Mr Pretzel wouldn’t let me off that easy. I didn’t decide to stay until I was sitting at breakfast with my colleague. We were about to leave for the airport and I said, “you know, I think I’m going to change my flight and stay. I’m going to go see the show tonight.”

I texted my pal the sound engineer and he told me to show up at the venue a little early. This is where my normal Pretzel life got very surreal. Waiting for me was an all access backstage pass. EEEEEEK!

Watching the show from the sound board

Snapped with my cell phone

The show was amazing and the night was just beginning. I textet Mr Pretzel, “I think I am going backstage!” as my new friend brought me to the after-party. It was humorous, I mingled with beautiful 20-somethings who were there for their beauty and I was there because I drank bourbon and the sound engineer found me to be a charming conversationalist. I estimated that I was a good 10 years older than every other woman in the room. *sigh* I sat down next two chatty co-eds who took an instant liking to me after hearing my “I was on a business trip and now I am backstage” story. Michael and the band arrived at the party and made the rounds. The three of us were invited onto Michael’s bus to party a little more and I believe I might have texted Mr Pretzel… “Partying with Michael on his bus—squeal!” I was surprised to find that both Michael and his band members found me interesting and enjoyed talking politics with me. Go figure! That night I was something different and not my normal self, I was witty, clever, funny, and charming. Perhaps it is because these boys had been on the road for over a year, but nonetheless they found me to be these things. I enjoyed the night thoroughly and made some new friends in the process. The two girls who befriended me were adorable, and at the end of the night a little drunk. Being the sober one, I drove us to my hotel and let them crash for the night.

When I arrived home, Mr Pretzel was just as excited as I was about my adventure. He wasn’t jealous or insecure. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have stayed for the concert. This weekend I got the opportunity to introduce Mr Pretzel to my friend the Sound Engineer. Despite not being thrilled about going to a Michael Buble concert, Mr Pretzel got dressed up all dashing-like and accompanied me to the show. I had scored 7th row seats, all on my own.

What a dashing Pretzel!

Speaking of Pretzels, we spied some and I couldn’t resist a photo.

While we were taking, this a woman behind us said, ” Get a picture of the price, those are some expensive pretzels”

Mr Pretzel replied, “$4? Ha! She’s a lot more expensive than that.”

I must say, the humor in that statement was lost on her, but I laughed my a$$ off. My buddy the sound engineer was glad we made it to the show and was excited to meet Mr Pretzel. He agreed it was pretty cool how Mr P encouraged me to have my little adventure.

There are lots of reasons that I love Mr Pretzel. Number 815 happens to be that he encourages me to hang with rock stars—or alternatively, he doesn’t let me give up easily because something might be inconvenient or hard.

What is one of the little reasons that you love your fiance?